Bring Me a L'il Water, Silvy [Mariposa]
Jan 1, 2015 12:44:35 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Jan 1, 2015 12:44:35 GMT -5
Caleb pressed a calloused hand into the burlap feed bag and tossed a handful in front of the waiting steer. This morning had come with a harsh winter chill. At first light, the windows of the barn had still been speckled with fringes of frost. Steam blew out in bursts from the nostrils of the waiting bovine. He smiled at the warm breath on his neck and the nuzzling that commenced upon his scattering of their breakfast. Their amnesia suddenly lifted, and the big brown eyes of the cattle widened at the sight of precious food. And while they were not the greatest beasts in the district (that title went to a farm up the way who was far better connected to peacekeepers), not a one had the gaunt, exposed ribs of some of the more harshly hit farms.
In truth, Caleb had taken great pains to make sure that his animals never went without. His patient hands traced along their spines and pressed against the soft hides. He pressed fingers along, searching for abnormal growths or signs of distress. It was easy enough for a cow to go hungry, but even easier to be stressed by the world around him. More often than not, this was the work of one of the younger boys and girls deciding to take up the old wives’ tale of trying to tip a sleeping bovine over. Caleb had participated in the same rite of passage when he was twelve. He and a group of boys had waited until night had blacked out the sky, and, finding a standing steer, pressed their little hands against the thousand pound creature to tip it over. Their result was cut short when the cow abruptly stepped forward, and the lot of them fell into the waiting cow patties in front of them.
“Ay, getting’ yerself inta trouble nah?” Caleb called out to Stoozy. An aging mare, her white freckled hide had been a part of his life as long as he could walk and talk. The two had seen the summer rains that washed away a group of lambs from up the way, winters that took more than a few cows, and enough happiness to flatten all the creased sadness down. Caleb scratched a hand through her tussled mane and smiled. “Gotta visit tah make today.” He pushed a hand around her snout and brought her eyes close to his. “Got work to be down, yeh.” He pressed a small cube of sugar—a treat of treats—into her waiting mouth. As far as Caleb could see, he and Stoozy were one in the same; sight of her white muscled chest meant good things on the horizon, a forebear that help was on the way.
The path toward the March farm was dotted with broken down wooden fences and ramshackle houses of families come and gone. The dusty gravel roads of District Ten were a reminder to Caleb of the same fragility he faced day in and day out. It was his hope that the sack slung over his shoulder, marked with a bright red cross, could be a lighthouse for all those that might be stumbling at sea. For there was the hope and despair of hunger—the ache of a stomach not yet full, still worried about children, and further, the livelihood of raising scores of sheep, chickens, goats, and the like—that drove down even the strongest man to his knees. Caleb did his best to ease that pain where he could, first and foremost through his farm visits to heal the sick and ailing.
He likened it to hearing the call of a rooster in the morning: he was certain of what he’d heard that it was time to awaken and busy his hands mending. Today he’d been told that there was a creeping sickness among the animals in one of the barns at the Marchs, and so he had risen early to feed the animals and do the work that needed doing before setting out. In his approach to the barn, he pulled back on Stoozy’s reins and let out a hyut to get her to pause. He’d not heard much about the Marches. They were a quiet sort of family, the same that disappeared into the background patchwork of District Ten. He set down onto the gravel and pressed his boots against the earth.
“Howdy,” He called out in his approach to the barn, sack still slung over his shoulder. “Heard y’all were facing a stretch of sickness up here?”
